


Teeth and Tongue

by pterodactylichexameter



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Queen of Shadows Spoilers, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactylichexameter/pseuds/pterodactylichexameter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're sick of waiting and since they've reached Terrasen...  </p><p>Shameless Rowaelin smut basically, not even gonna lie</p><p>Sort of Queen of Shadows spoilers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teeth and Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> YALL DONT EVEN LIE ROWAN WOULD LOVE GOING DOWN OF AELIN

 

On the fourth night since their arrival in Orynth, Rowan took Aelin’s hand after they’d been pouring over documents and maps of the city and keep, blowing out the candles on the desk she’d been using (and overworking herself on).

“You’ll be of no use to your people if you wear yourself out,” he murmured with a low tease and she couldn’t exactly deny that.

It was hard though, with so much to be done and so little time to do it. They were finally in Terrasen, _her_ Terrasen and nothing seemed to be moving fast enough.  She already needed a breather.

“You just want an excuse to see me bathe again, don’t you?” Aelin teased half-heartedly, allowing him to lead her out of her temporary study.

A wicked smirk spread over his lips and she could see the sharp glint of his eyes in the moonlight streaming through the hall windows.

“Our room is the other way,” she said as he took a right instead of a left at their usual turn.

He shrugged. “Not anymore.”

She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, but Rowan was quiet, not offering to reveal any insights into what was going on, or where he was taking her.  The farther they got from inhabited rooms, the more she could remember what it felt like to have his thick arms wrapping around her from behind in a quiet moment away from their companions.

So she followed him farther into the castle, down quiet hallways and up two flights of a narrow staircase, his fingers casually linked with hers: a mindless connection that seemed natural.

At last he halted at a pair of double wooden doors, plain but certainly new. She could smell the freshly stained oak in the air.

“Your chambers, Your Majesty,” Rowan said with a sly smile and a light bow, pushing open one of the doors.

Oh. _Oh_.

The wide room was already lit, sparsely decorated, but lit with a wide fireplace at one end and a wall that was almost entirely open to a wide balcony where white moonlight filtered through the fluffed summer clouds.

“It’s not done, of course,” Rowan said, gesturing around to the bare stone floor and walls. “But it was the best I could do in this short of time.  A queen shouldn’t sleep a wall away from the pigs.”

“Why not? I share a bed with one every night.”  She elbowed him lightly in the side, a grin widening with every passing second.

He huffed out a short breath with a roll of his eyes, but she could tell he wasn’t mad. It was beautiful, and when they had the time, she’d fill it to her satisfaction, but at the moment there were more important things to be worrying about than rugs and armchairs.

“You have your own office, of course, right next to mine,” Rowan was saying, striding over to the door on the wall of the fireplace, and she followed him, peering into the smaller (but still plenty spacious) room with a plain desk and chair.

He showed her another sitting room, more private than the last, and when they headed to the opposite end of the main chamber, he gestured to an empty corner. “When you have the time and funds, you should put a pianoforte there. I asked about the acoustics of the room, and I heard that the ceilings here are—”

She was grinning when she pulled his lips down to hers for a swift kiss. “We,” she murmured. “You mean, when _we_ have the time and funds.”

His lips spread into a slow smile and he nuzzled her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It isn’t right for a queen to share her bed with someone like me. People will talk.”

Aelin grazed her mouth over his jaw, tasting the warm skin of his throat. She could feel the ragged breath he suddenly took when she drew his earlobe between her teeth. “I don’t give a damn about what people say, and you know that. That’s why this room is at least two floors away from anyone in this castle.”

“I should’ve known you’d notice on the way here.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

When she pulled back and saw the hunger in his eyes, she was sure there were flames licking her skin.  All the waiting and they were finally, (Gods, _finally_ ) alone.  “You can’t get anything past me. I’m too intelligent.”

His canines were sharp when he smirked down at her, bending slowly to breathe the scent of her in, hot breath washing over her throat with the drag of his teeth along her jawline. She swore she could’ve burst into flames right there.

“I’m sure you can figure out the furniture I did bother with, then.” His warm palm slipped down her back, pressing her more closely to him.

Her pulse raced in her veins, every inch of her alive with wild energy.

“You should show me anyway,” came her murmur, and that was all she had to say before he was tugging her up with his broad hands under her firm thighs.

Her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, fingers digging into the smooth muscle tight underneath his thin shirt.  She almost yelped but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of surprising her. Instead, her mouth sought his in a hot mix of teeth and tongue.

Somehow he got the door open and a few moments later her back was pressing against the softness of a mattress, Rowan’s weight on top of her, the feel of him everywhere at once. She could practically taste his pine and snow scent in the air, could only hear the rapid pounding of their hearts and the crackle of a fire that could have either been in a grate or in her mind.  She felt him pressing against her, the wrap of his hand around the thigh that was still over his hip.

But she wanted skin.

“You’d better come through with what you swore,” she warned through a ragged breath while she tugged at his shirt.

Underneath he was all corded muscle and white scars, his tattoo rippling across his skin.  Everything about him read power and life: the thickness to his arms and torso, the heavy weight of him pinning her to the bed.

“And what did I swear?” he teased after he’d lifted slightly to tug his shirt the rest of the way off. The soft strands of his lengthening hair fell across his forehead and he paused for a moment to look at her under him.

 _You know well enough, you teasing ass_. She would’ve said it out loud but the way his eyes roamed her body without hesitation. . .

 _I still want to hear you say it_.  He grinned down at her, brushing the pads of his fingers over her parted lips, drifting down her throat to her collar bone. She shuddered under the heat in his eyes.

She hadn’t forgotten his words in her apartment from the minute they’d left his mouth: “I don’t want to have an audience . . . when I make you moan, Aelin.”

Give him the satisfaction of saying them, though?  That was something else entirely.  “Make me.”

A low growl reverberated through his body, sending heat straight to her core. She moved to set on the clasps of her tunic, but he caught her wrists in a fierce grip, and she almost let a sound escape with her breath when he lifted them to his mouth.

He could smell his scent on her, could almost taste the blood throbbing through her veins and a curl of satisfaction that was all territorial male wound through him when she squirmed and he caught the overwhelming scent of her arousal. He nipped at the inside of her wrist and flicked his tongue out to taste her skin.

Oh he’d make her moan.

Aelin’s breath came in rough pants as he took his time undoing the clasps of her tunic, her fingers catching in his hair when he ducked his head to her throat, then down to kiss every inch of her stomach he exposed as he lifted her shirt.

She was all muscle under velvet skin, the occasional scar marking her flesh, but he kissed those too, his tongue tasting the exposed curve of her hip, dipping into her navel.

Aelin’s eyes slipped shut as she tried to hold back the barrage of heat ready to consume her. She clenched her thighs tighter, but knew he could smell her arousal anyway. His damn tongue was torturous as he worked his way up her stomach, bunching her shirt higher and higher until he reached the supportive band around her breasts.

She lifted herself for him to help ease her shirt over her head, and before she was even lying down again, he was already cupping one breast in his warm palm, thumb finding her nipple even through her undergarment.

Teasing her was as effective for Aelin as it was for Rowan.  He nudged at her throat and her toes curled with the growl that arose from him.

She clawed at his back greedily, fingers running over the dips and rises of his scars, the unyielding muscle beneath.  The raw power radiating from him now could’ve frightened anyone, but it only made her hungry.

They’d been waiting for this, waiting for so damn long.

When he drew back the minute her breasts were bare, she shuddered under his gaze, the hooded stare that started at her eyes, then lowered.  She could feel it like a caress, over her throat, her

collar bone, pausing at the heave of her chest, her breasts peaked both from the cool air and the fire running through her.

Rowan swallowed visibly and she took his hand and placed it on her breast. “You’ve seen me before,” she murmured, amused and confident at his open-mouthed stare he didn’t bother to try and hide.

When his eyes flicked up to meet hers, they were all heat. “Not like this,” he murmured, and braced his forearm beside her head so he could kiss her. “Never like this.”

He started slow, the gentle circle of his thumb as his tongue met hers. She squeezed her thighs together and panted into his mouth with the sudden pinch of her nipple.

 _“Rowan_ ,” she bit out, not sure if she was speaking in her head or out loud, or a mix of both.

He let out a strangled groan when her hips rose up, searching with the sudden surge of want through her belly.

Aelin reached between them, finding his belt. . .

But he pulled away, laving at her throat, teeth catching on her bare nipple.  “Not so fast, Fireheart,” he purred against her breast.

The implications of just how he’d make her moan came flooding through her and with each kiss that had him sinking farther and farther down her body, she was closer and closer to losing it.

When he tugged at her belt, kissing the jut of her hip bone and glancing up to smirk at her, she could only let her head fall back on the pillows.

“I’ve wanted to taste you ever since I first caught your scent.” He was pulling at her pants while she helped to kick her boots off.

Gods.  “When?”

“You were having a dream. In your apartment in Rifthold. It must’ve been a damn good dream because I could smell it on you.”  His fingers hooked into her pants and underwear, easing them down her legs.

With anyone else, she would’ve felt exposed under his gaze, but under Rowan’s she just felt confident.  His nostrils flared when her thighs parted at the nudge of his hands.

Every curse she knew fluttered through her mind when he rested her thighs over his shoulders. She was vaguely aware of her fingers digging into the covers.

“Lying in that bed all night,” he said out loud, voice thick, “was the most frustrating experience of my life, knowing that you wanted something that I thought I couldn’t give.”

He tilted his head to kiss her inner thigh, swallowing at her scent.  His heart was pounding in his chest and he was well aware of the hardness between him and the bed, but that could wait.

He nipped at the crease of her thigh and just as he could feel the urging of her heels digging into his back, he licked into her with a long swipe of his tongue.

The moan that tore through her was enough that he wasted no time in finding the sensitive bead of nerves quick enough that every breath she exhaled bore a noise.

Aelin had given up trying to hold back, impossible to when his lips were fastened around her and his strong arms were holding her hips still against the bed. Every press of his tongue bore with it a new sound.

Gods, he knew what he was doing.

 _“_ You taste better than I ever imagined,” he said, finger replacing his tongue in the moment it took him to draw away.

She drew quick breaths. _You imagined_?

She could feel his growl shock her to the core. “That gold nightgown.” His forearm bore down on her hips and one hand moved around to part her folds.

She whimpered, back arching.

“I wanted to tear it off of you.”  He nearly cursed at how wet she was when he eased two fingers inside. “I would’ve taken you against the wall.”

“You can’t just _take_ me,” she insisted, even though they both knew she trusted him with her body enough that she’d let him do whatever he wanted.

 _“_ You’d let me, Fireheart.”

Curse his territorial Fae instincts.  They were too much to handle at once, not with his head between her thighs.

But he stopped talking, suddenly that much more occupied with his tongue as he worked her higher and higher. Their bond seemed to throb between them, and Aelin cried out his name when he pushed her just far enough, her hands caught in his hair.

He worked her through her  orgasm, easing up as she crashed down from her high.

Rowan was all fire, _her_ fire, and it took physical effort not to groan with the friction of every movement he made against the bed.

He tried not to think of the sounds she’d made when her back was arched off the bed in ecstasy, and what she’d feel like when he was inside her.

Aelin jolted when he carefully withdrew his fingers, biting out a curse when he slid them into his mouth to lick them off himself, all the while keeping eye contact.

She was partially sated, but still left wanting, and she tugged at his shoulders, pulling him up her body until her small hand pressed against the prominent bulge in his trousers.

“ _Aelin_.”

She grinned at her effect on him and rose on her elbow to suck his lip into her mouth, tasting herself.

“I would say to take your time,” he murmured, finger brushing back the wisps of hair stuck to her throat, “but I want you.”

Aelin rose up, forcing him onto his back and pulling more quickly at the ties of his pants.  “I want you too.”

He eyed her hungrily, sending a fresh wave of hot energy through her.

And as soon as she shoved his trousers and underwear down, she was struck with the very obvious realization that she’d never seen him aroused before, not like this. Sure, she’d gotten him hot and bothered a few times, but the part of him that jutted out in a hard line was. . . more than she’d been expecting.

“I know I’m pretty, but I’m also hungry,” he growled, and her toes curled.

She glanced up at his face, flushed and wanting, then back down to his hips.  He could’ve pushed her onto her back and taken charge himself, but. . .

A slow smirk spread over her lips and she let her hand roam his chest.  “You _wanted_ me to be on top, didn’t you, Prince?”

His face was carefully drawn, but she knew him better than herself, arching her back when she straddled him.

He steadied her with hands clasped on her thighs, and she didn’t resist a slow, teasing grind of her hips.

“Aelin,” he bit out, and she was vaguely aware of the tensing of his muscles as he leaned up to guide her lips down to his.

There was no more waiting.

Her breaths came in heaved pants against his mouth and she helped guide him until she was lowering down.

He groaned, kissing her deeply, and her fingers wound in his hair.

It’d been a long time for them both, too long, and when Rowan had caught his breath, eyes hazed over with the pleasure of her slick heat, his hand roamed down to the curve of her ass, pulling her into motion.

“I’ve lived for over three centuries and right now you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered against her throat, nipping at her skin.

Aelin almost closed her eyes, but instead met Rowan’s with the slow roll of her body until all she could imagine was the two of them in the entire world.

Rowan  growled, grasping her hips and snapping his up to meet her.

She whimpered.

A storm was rising inside him, one that he couldn’t tame.

“Fireheart,” he murmured, canines dragging at her skin, damp with heat. “I want to hear you.”

Aelin shuddered, body taking up the motion against his of its own accord, moans escaping, whimpers and whines that she would’ve judged any other woman for, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

And then with the next thrust of his hips up against hers, she let out a desperate cry. “Don’t st— _there_ ,” and then a jumble of syllables when he held her hips in place, never losing tempo, pounding into her with quick strokes.

The bond between them was thrumming with joined energy, and when Rowan growled, biting so hard at her throat that he could taste the thick sweetness of her blood, they both crashed over the edge in simultaneous pleasure.

The Fae male in him growled with the satisfaction of spilling his seed inside her, even if she would drink tea the next morning.  He claimed her in that right just as she claimed him.

They were both gasping through each breath, Aelin glad that Rowan had enough sense to separate them from the rest of the castle for the time being, sweaty and tangled together.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” she groaned with her face buried against his neck.  She could smell the sweat on his skin and pressed light kisses into his shoulder.

“Waiting is half the fun,” he smirked, rubbing up and down her back in a way that gave her goosebumps.

“I suppose we couldn’t have done _that_ in the woods.” Aelin was shaky and worn out, but didn’t want to move, half because that would mean he’d have to pull out of her.

“Would’ve scared away all the wildlife with your moaning,” Rowan said and pinched her lightly on the backside.

She jerked up and took him in, the lazy smile, his hair strewn back on the white pillows, tongue running over his canines.  She knew he’d bitten her, that she’d have to cover it up tomorrow, but she’d deal with that when she came to it (and bite him next time).

The next morning, after he woke up to her kissing down his stomach and showing him _exactly_ what she could do with her tongue, they’d walked into the main hall to a grumbling, traumatized Aedion, who just glared at them and muttered over their sheepish laughter to shut the goddamn windows next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and come join me in my trashcan on [tumblr](http://pterodactylichexameter.tumblr.com)
> 
> “I don’t want to have an audience . . . when I make you moan, Aelin" is from page 436 of the american edition of Queen of Shadows


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